Quick humor

Horror Author: Poison Ivy & The Lingering Evil (Short Humor)

Did you know you can get a poison ivy rash in the Fall and Winter, even after all the leaves have fallen off the plant, and just the vines and roots are left? I did not. The saint and I knew we had a few patches left in our garden beds to get rid of–we waited until a few frosts had passed. I walked into our backyard recently to find a field of crunchy frost, thick and deliciously cold. Now was the time to finally kill the fiend–or so I thought. It still lived, quietly waiting to attack. War was here. But I was ready.

You can’t burn the evil that is poison ivy–the smoke releases the infamous urushiol oil from the plant (what gives you the rash) and you can inhale the oil into your lungs. If you pick the plant (see: forcefully yank up the said beast with a wild glint of triumph and malice), you’ll need to wash all your clothing–and your body–thoroughly–including the gloves and other protective gear you should be wearing. Otherwise the oil lingers and chuckles in glee, causing continued reactions for up to a year. I did discover one alternative to eradicating the evil plant. GOATS. Goats eat poison ivy apparently–along with a plethora of other items questionable to our human guts.

I may write a letter to Heaven then, asking Gabriel to send forth a holy flock from on high to my backyard one day soon. Kill the evil that is, dear little goaties, once and for all. Go forth and conquer!

Quick humor

Poison Ivy & Gumby Toys |(Humor)

I woke up this morning looking like Quasimodo returning from a rave. As I beheld my pajamaed self in our bedroom mirror, holding my medical license I cut from the back of a cereal box, I could see that the right side of my face was swollen. My right eye looked a bit smaller than my left eye, and my arms looked like miniature chickens had a party on them all night. They had kicked up their feet in a frenzied barnyard dance, most extreme, leaving scratches and red bumps galore. I had not slept well. I scratched my neck absently. Wait, the chickens had been there, too?

Boop. Beep. Boop. Ga-hoogah.

“Dear saintly husband,” I texted, who had already left for work. “Me thinks I have a most severe, but not the severest ever (according to an illuminating, but slightly disturbing Google image search) poison ivy reaction. Please send puppies. And sympathy, if I’m ever to be so honest.”

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Poison Ivy & Procrastination: Writing Snares

There’s a saying in North America for poison ivy: “Leaves of three, leave it be.” Poison ivy, as the picture shows, has the infamous three leaves on a stem. Many people (but not everyone) are allergic to the oils the leaves produce. Unlucky wayfarers come across the ivy usually in forests, overlooked fence corners or in neglected flower beds.  Rub against the plant’s leaves and the oils will give you a rash, blisters and itchy skin.

Gardeners must cut the ivy carefully, bag it and throw it away. You never burn the ivy–the smoke carries the oils and if you breathe it in, a reaction can happen internally. Clothing and skin must be washed immediately. Then bring on the pink Calamine lotion and prepare for a couple of weeks of healing while dodging inquiring stares. Avoid questions of people asking why exactly you look like a pimply young piglet and smile at the ignorant treating you like a contagious leper.

Crack on.

Continue reading “Poison Ivy & Procrastination: Writing Snares”